


in your court

by icarusian



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Courtship, Flower Language, M/M, Sugar and Ashes: A Promare Valentine's Zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22877386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusian/pseuds/icarusian
Summary: It’s not that the novelty of being courted bytheGalo Thymos has or ever will wear off, especially considering Galo’s already successfullycourted him.Galo just won’t properlykiss him.To Lio’s credit, he’s made himself known. Small nips to Galo’s lower lip just before he pulls away, a send-off just under his jaw— never say he didn’t try eating the forbidden fruit.But, like Icarus, once he’s had a taste of the sun, the reward far outweighs the risk.
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 4
Kudos: 101





	in your court

**Author's Note:**

> happy valentine's day ♡ will go up to an explicit rating in chapter 2, which will be posted later! i had so much fun writing this fic because i LOVE love!!! includes lovely art from my collab artist, ren. i adore you!

At this point, he expects the questions.

“You don’t talk much about life before the Promare,” Galo brings up one day over a quiet lunch.

“Not much to talk about,” Lio counters easily. “Grew up rich and stuffy, ran away when my parents tried to arrange a marriage for me, and then I became Burnish. The rest is history.” He can’t help but look up at Galo, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.  
  
As sure as his alarm rings at 5:15 every morning, Galo doesn’t press. Just listens, considers, and understands.  
  
“History, huh?” Galo snickers knowingly. “Wait till the press hears about runaway bride Lio Fotia. Was he just not your type?” Lio doesn’t miss the obviously interested tone coloring Galo’s question. He’s not asking for conversation.  
  
“Oh no, he was. Tall, broad, easy to talk to…” Lio lists off, watching Galo go through a mental checklist. “He just ended up being an asshole behind closed doors,” he sighs. “Glad it’s over, but all the courtship my parents required of him was funny. He was so desperate to win my hand,” he laughs, a little caught up in the memory.  
  
“That sucks, man. You deserve a good courtyard _and_ a good dude,” Galo comments offhandedly.

 _I know where I can find one of those things,_ Lio thinks, watching as Galo pays for his meal, just like every other time.

⁂

He’s practicing cooking when he hears a solid _knock knock knock_ on their apartment door.  
  
“Meis, can you get the door?” Lio calls, cracking eggs into his mixing bowl.  
  
“Got it, Boss,” Gueira responds instead. Meis must have his headphones in again. He leans back over the cookbook— _beat eggs until fluffy_ —  
  
“Holy _shit!_ ” Gueira cackles abruptly. “Boss, your _boyfriend_ is here!” _Boyfriend?_  
  
“Hey man, I’m not—”  
  
“Galo?” Blue hair, bright eyes, and shaped like a tortilla chip, the “boyfriend” standing in the middle of their living room is undoubtedly Galo, still in his work uniform. It’s definitely him, but Lio doesn’t recognize his blue hair that’s been near-tamed with hints of gel, bright eyes downcast and cheeks ripe with embarrassment, an emotion Lio never thought he’d see on Galo. Galo snaps to attention when his downtrodden gaze sweeps over the pink of Lio’s socks, eyes wide and smile crooked.  
  
“Lio! Hey! Hey, uh, what’s up?” Galo stammers out, overly casual. Something rustles behind his back, heavy paper crinkling as it presses against Galo’s shoulders.  
  
“Cooking…?” Lio answers absentmindedly, tilting his body to the side so he can peer at the rustling bundle. Did Galo bring him food? He doesn’t smell anything except for his half-baked mess in the kitchen, and it doesn’t sound like a pizza box. “Hey Galo, what’s—?”  
  
“Woah, flowers?” Meis declares, appearing behind Galo and plucking what seems to be a small arrangement of yellow roses and white lilies from his hands. Lio’s body catches at the sight, freezing him in place. “There something you’re not telling us?” he grins, tossing the bouquet to Gueira, its reflective black ribbon trailing in the air behind it. Galo scrambles to get it back from Meis, but it lands in the arms of a still-snickering Guiera, who decides to play a game of keep-away with the plants.

Galo had to have known. Sweet yellow roses and childish white lilies, and he thinks he catches glimpses of purple sprinkled throughout the arrangement for a pop of color— it’s all too coincidental.  
  
“Oh, Galo Thymos! Of course you can have all my babies!” Gueira swoons before tossing the bouquet up in the air between he and Meis, the roses brighter than sunshine.  
  
_We’re friends. I’m happy._

But the flower arrangement never makes it to Meis’ outstretched palms because Galo practically tackles the bouquet to the ground, cradling it to his chest like it’s something worth protecting. He lands at Lio’s feet, semi-tamed hair now ruffled and full of flyaways, smile sheepishly crooked as he procures the flowers from his embrace and offers them up to Lio. Up close, he can see a smattering of violets riddled throughout the arrangement, dazzling against the white lillies. It reminds him of his own eyes.

_But now I want more._

Lio takes the bundle in eerie silence, catching the attention of the two cackling fools. He also helps Galo up, out of breath and face flushed deeper than before. His palms are sweaty, uncharacteristically shaky.  
  
“Gueira, Meis.” They snap to attention, laughter dying in their throats. He pays them no mind, turning instead to confront Galo. “Galo, tell me why you brought me flowers,” he requests, entreating. Lio isn’t stupid; he knows why, now. But he needs to hear it. Galo finally takes a deep breath and puffs out his chest, regaining some semblance of his former self.

“They’re for your courtyard!” he proudly announces. _Courtship,_ Lio thinks automatically, not having the heart to correct him.

Wait.

Before Lio can get anything out, Galo swivels around in his spot to face his two assailants and drops into a full kowtow.

“Meis and Gueira!” —some shuffling, Galo sitting up enough to peer at something on the floor— “You are the closest thing to family that Lio has in his life. You both have been with him through some pretty awful stuff, and you only want the best for him. I think we have something in common.” Lio sucks in a breath. “So! I would like to formally ask for your approval to…” he pauses, sitting up straighter and procuring a small sticky note to read from, “to make an honest man out of Lio in the most primal w— Lucia!” Galo groans, crumpling up the paper.  
  
Head slamming into the carpet, voice loud and decisive— “I want to take Lio on a date!”

Lio could tell by the flowers, but to hear Galo say so plainly the words they’ve been dancing around for months now— hot pizza on a cold February day, a second helmet offered after work— it’s just what he needed.

“As much as I like this dough-for-brains firefighter talking us up,” Meis starts.  
  
“Boss?” Gueira finishes.

They always defer to him in the end, but he knows what approval from his closest people sounds like.  
  
“You’re paying.” Galo lights up.

⁂

To his credit, Galo arrives at 6 o’clock PM sharp the very next Friday, another bouquet in hand, work uniform nowhere to be found.

“White roses this time?” Lio asks, wrapping delicate fingers around the bundle of stems.

“They were on sale! They’ll look great in your courtyard,” Galo proudly retorts, going through the motions of shaking Meis and Gueira’s hands.

_New beginnings._

Galo just takes them to dinner, to Lio’s immediate relief. While Galo is usually one for grand gestures, always going that extra mile for a chance to be seen, Lio wants this— whatever they are and are going to be— to be just theirs (and it certainly wouldn’t hurt to avoid a repeat of his last suitor’s courtship advances; Lio didn’t realize people _could_ flush that deeply).

And when Galo drops him off at home, lingering for just a moment on his front porch to hastily duck his head for a cheek kiss goodnight, Lio sees stars. Every date begins with a new flower and each ends with a kiss or hug sweeter than the nectar in his hands.

In short, it’s perfect.

Too perfect.

The gentle kiss imparted upon his cheek after their first date was heart-pounding and wax-melting in all the ways first love and other such fevers are supposed to be— an, _“Is this okay?_ ” and the most careful press of Galo’s dry lips after the planetarium sent him soaring higher than alpha centauri and the sun combined— and every little kiss and hug and hand-hold after that the same. It’s not that the novelty has or ever will wear off, especially considering Galo’s already successfully _courted him_.

Galo just won’t properly _kiss him_.

To Lio’s credit, he’s made himself known. Small nips to Galo’s lower lip just before he pulls away, a send-off just under his jaw— never say he didn’t try eating the forbidden fruit.

But, like Icarus, once he’s had a taste of the sun, the reward far outweighs the risk.

⁂

He should have known he was flying too close. As if the anticipation buzzing around them like birds and bees wasn’t bad enough, the _bouquet_ Galo gave him—

Countless encounters up to this point. Numerous words of affection exchanged, hands held so often they’ve nearly fused, stolen glances during work hours, and Galo has the audacity to text him _wear something nice!_ and show up at his door with a flower arrangement hell-bent on shaming his family name.

A salacious intermingling of slithering honeysuckle and sensual sweetpea, twisted with budding, flushed peonies sits tauntingly in his lap as they ride through the sweeping cityscape in charged silence. Lio’s gloved fingers toy with the vivid red ribbon wrapped around his blushing bundle, too tense to reach over and thread his fingers with Galo’s, too worried of falling for the suggestive imagery staring up at him.

This has to be some kind of divine intervention. This has to be _something_. He’s waited so patiently.

He’s so stuck on the flowers, inhaling every waft of the sweet, rich petals, he hardly notices Galo pull up to a neon-lined lounge until the vivid crimson lights up the oil slick fabric of his suit.

“You brought me out for drinks?” Not really what he was expecting but—

“Not this time,” Galo comments, taking his hand and leading them inside. _This time, huh?_ The lounge is split into three parts, with a sleek bar in the middle with a small section of booths scattered around the back for patrons to drink and chat. But what catches Lio’s eye is the extensive dance floor littered with moving bodies, couples engaged in smooth slides and playful twirls alike, calculated moves that pull them closer and closer to prolonged skinship.

And Lio _wants._

“I hope you’re bad at dancing,” Galo says, slipping his fingers between Lio’s.

“Why’s that?”

“So it looks like I know what I’m doing.” The next thing Lio knows, he’s being pulled through the throng and led straight to the center of the floor, Galo’s overconfidence parting the seas for their arrival.

When Galo turns to face him, lopsided smile illuminated in the blacklight and hands confidently landing on Lio’s body like he was born to lead, Lio sees it for what it is in record time: a challenge.

He remembers his first taste of Galo’s reckless abandon, a fire in his eyes while Lio surrounded them with it— it’s what kept him coming back for more, what makes Lio rise to the occasion without fail. If Galo wants to play follow-the-leader, they can play.

The look of pure surprise on his face when Lio presses in close— thumb caressing the ridge of Galo’s, body naturally swaying to overplayed pop songs, other hand creeping suggestively up Galo’s bicep— it’s thrilling to see the effect he has on someone like Galo.

But before they can get lost in the waves, Galo’s grip tight on Lio’s waist and faces far too close, the song transitions into something far more suited to prom than a night lounge filled with booze breath and desire. A heart-wrenching melody snaps them out of their charged reverie, tense gazes and hands letting each other slip through, but the mood doesn’t die. They’ve barely started dancing, but there’s no way to ignore the smoldering gazes they’ve fixed onto each other, and Lio realizes that he can’t wait any longer.

But Galo softens, just enough to cup his face and press a reverent kiss to his forehead, something far more enticing than anything Galo’s done tonight. Lio reaches up— curls his fingers around Galo’s wrist— and indulges.

⁂

Lio feels like a prince.

There’s no other way to describe it— having a handsome man dance all night with him after bringing him flowers and buying him bottle after bottle of water, then watching said man take off his jacket _and_ hoodie in a nice place because he got too hot dancing, and then riding home with aforementioned shirtless man in his warm car—

Lio’s on top of the world.

The only thing that could make this night better would be a solid half an hour of kissing Galo silly to show him how much Lio appreciates all his efforts, something to make sure Galo knows _you have me_ , so Lio decides to test out those wax wings.

“I had fun tonight,” Lio starts when they approach his door, putting on a coy front.

“Me too! You’re really good at dancing, especially when you lead,” Galo laughs, leaning casually against the railing.  
  
“Yeah? You like it when I lead?” Lio asks, stepping into Galo’s space.

“Well—” Oh that’s a good look on him. Flustered, giving Lio an involuntary once-over.

Considering.

“Maybe,” he concludes, moving in just the barest bit closer.

“Just maybe?” Galo steps back, and Lio steps forward, this game of cat and mouse they’ve been playing coming to a head. “Galo, you’ve been the most impressive suitor I’ve had to date,” he starts. “You bring me flowers. You tackle me if I try paying for anything—” Step.  
  
“But—” Closer—  
  
“ _And_ you kiss me after every date, never pushing for more than just one.” Backed against the door, Galo has nowhere to run. He leans in close, nose gently bumping Galo’s, sharing space and stealing breath. “Why is that?”  
  
“You deserve better than that,” Galo weakly protests, hands coming up to settle on Lio’s hips like they belong there, warm and magnetic.

“I _deserve_ you,” Lio warns, low with finality. And just like that, he seals their mouths together like hot wax. The noise Galo moans into him feels like the culmination of every minute brush of their lips Lio suffered on dates past, the burning desire crawling down his throat and dripping molten into his core. Lio grins when Galo’s lips expertly pry his open in desperation because he knows what Galo’s like when he has something to prove. A beast comes out, determined to impress and surpass all the hurdles in his path.

Lio can’t help but dig his thumb under Galo’s jaw to control their kiss, biting as it’s become, a lion tamer in the ring with no whip. This is Galo, the same man that takes the most ridiculous route to accomplish a task, but he feels unfamiliar somehow. This entire courtship has been the same song and dance he tried countless times back home, but it was never with someone who fit into the role like he’s always known what to do to make Lio happy.

And it’s here, pinning Galo against the door to his shared apartment and dousing their desire with unadulterated gasoline, that Lio realizes he wouldn’t mind letting Galo ‘courtyard’ him for a while to come.

**Author's Note:**

> if you'd like to get a copy of the zine (it comes with promare-printed CHOCOLATE), check out our twitter [here](https://twitter.com/Promare_vday)!
> 
> feel free to ask me on a date [(or just yell at me)](https://twitter.com/icarosian)
> 
> don't ask ren on a date but he's worth the [follow](https://twitter.com/maddobanisshu)


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